And form’d the eternal city’s ornaments
From spoils of kings whom freemen overthrew;
Birth-place of heroes, sanctuary of saints,
Where, earthly first, then heavenly glory made
Her home; thou, all which fondest fancy paints,
And finds her prior vision but pourtray’d
In feeble colours, when the eye—from the Alp
Of horrid snow, rock, and shaggy shade
Of desert-loving pine, whose emerald scalp
Nods to the storm—dilates, and dotes o’er thee.”